


Solitary Solider

by silverraven



Category: Doom (2005)
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-01
Updated: 2010-06-01
Packaged: 2017-10-09 20:51:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/91474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverraven/pseuds/silverraven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>It was supposed to be a simple training mission.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Solitary Solider

**Author's Note:**

> For my _Hypothermia and Extreme Cold_ square on [](http://community.livejournal.com/cliche_bingo/profile)[**cliche_bingo**](http://community.livejournal.com/cliche_bingo/).
> 
> My thanks to [](http://wickedtruth.livejournal.com/profile)[**wickedtruth**](http://wickedtruth.livejournal.com/) for the read through. Any remaining mistakes are my own.

John was cold, so cold. He couldn’t control the way his body shook, seemed to be shivering more with every second. He pulled the jacket tighter around himself, drawing his knees up to his chest, trying to conserve as much body heat as he could.

But it’s of no use, the cold was seeping into him, starting with his hands that he couldn’t feel anymore. Goosebumps rose on his skin, his breathing becoming quick and shallow.

It was supposed to be a simple training mission. To get him back in shape, they had said. It’s been six months since Olduvai, six months that the government had kept him and his sister locked in one of their facilities. Test after test, question after question, until finally, they had let them go.

Sam had begged him not to go back to RRTS, almost word for word what she had said ten years ago when he announced he was joining the marines. She didn’t understand, he wasn't the same boy she had grown up with. The one that’s nose was always in a book. That wasn’t him anymore.

He was a solider.

A marine.

Who was stranded in a cave somewhere in the Canadian Rockies. He hadn’t been told where, just dropped off and told they would pick him up in a week. That was what? Five days ago? Six? He couldn’t remember, it was getting harder to think.

No one had foreseen the spring snow storm that blanketed the landscape with several feet of snow and plummeted the temperature to almost freezing. John went two days without food before spotting a lake. It wasn’t frozen over, thankfully, and he stayed close by, counting on some animal eventually showing up for a drink.

John hadn't expected a grizzly, his brain telling him not to engage but his stomach growling was louder. So with only a knife and the strength the C-24 gave him, he attacked.

The fight was brutal, blood sputtering everywhere as John stabbed the animal repeatedly and the bear's powerful paws taking out a chunk of John's side and nearly his right leg.

He healed almost instantly.

The bear did not.

John was ultimately the victor but his relief was short lived as the creature's booming roars had set off an avalanche.

His memory got hazy after that, he remembered waking up to darkness, digging himself out, trekking across the vast landscape with only moonlight to guide him. He didn't know how long he wandered before finding a cave.

John’s body began to shiver violently. He looked down, his fingers were blue. He tried touching his pinky to his thump but he couldn't do it.

It’s not supposed to end like this, he thought. He’s not supposed to die here in a training exercise, alone. The C-24 may have given him super healing abilities but it couldn't replenish the heat his body was losing, couldn't fight the cold.

He closed his eyes, his head falling back against the wall, no longer able to hold it up.

He wished he wasn't alone, wished that his team was here with him, but that wasn't possible. They were dead. Duke, Goat, Destroyer, Sarge...

God, _Sarge_. Killed by John's own hand. Things hadn't always been so violent between them, John was the only one Sarge called by his first name, the only one that got to see when Sarge wasn't in commander mode. In return, Sarge had been the only one John had trusted enough to tell about his past.

He had known Sarge better than anybody. Knew every inch of him, knew how every patch of skin tasted, knew how his blood tasted.

The sex was hard, animistic, two Alpha males battling for dominance, biting, clawing, _taking_. He may have never fucked Sarge but dammit if he would just roll over like some bitch.

Sarge's fucking was always just the wrong side of painful, left John sore for days, but that didn't stop John from spreading his legs, from pulling Sarge closer as he thrust savagely into John.

He remembered the feel, the wetness, the _heat_ as Sarge blew him. The rest of the unit just down the hall, gearing up for the next mission. He'd stuffed his fist in his mouth to keep from moaning, his other hand digging into Sarge's scalp, a wave of lust spreading through him when he felt blood underneath his nails.

He remembered how it was afterward, cleaning up and getting dressed in silence before walking away. They never talked about it, they didn't need to.

It was just sex. Raw, primitive, unforgiving.

The sound of dogs barking jerked John into a more alert state. He opened his eyes but his vision was blurry, shapes of light and spots of black. He tried to get up, it didn't work. His struggles tire him and soon the barking seemed to fade.

He could feel sleep overtaking him, the last thing he's aware of was someone calling, "He's over here," before everything went black.


End file.
